Who Is It This Time?
by KatFenn
Summary: Sequel to Who Is It. Michael and Caitlin go on a romantic weekend only to be entangled in intrigue. A double kidnapping adds to the mystery...
1. Chapter 1

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

**Chapter 1**

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III looked at himself in the mirror. It had been some time since he dressed in anything other than white. His cornflower blue muscle tee shirt, under a black biker-style jacket and black cargo pants gave him a rakish air, a complete difference from the crisp white three piece suits he normally wore.

Running his fingers through his hair, he grabbed his Rolex wristwatch with his free hand and snapped it on his left wrist. He walked out of the bathroom into his bedroom and picked out a pair of black shoes from his closet. He chuckled to himself when he saw that he had a single token pair each of black and brown shoes amongst a sea of white shoes he normally wore for work.

Michael slid into his Jeep. A quick glance at his wristwatch showed that he had exactly ten minutes to pick Caitlin up for their date. Their fifth, in fact, since the day of Dom's birthday party, where he had revealed his feelings for the freckled redhead. He found her sense of fun endearing, but underneath she proved to have a ready wit and an affectionate nature. "_Good God, I sound absolutely lovesick!"_ he thought to himself. "_Get a grip, for heaven's sake! Don't overthink it…"_ He forced his mind to concentrate on the road ahead of him.

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Caitlin tucked her arm through Michael's as they walked the short distance from the carpark to the restaurant. Although it was a warm night, a stiff breeze blew icy fingers down her neck. Feeling her shiver, Michael tried to quicken his stride. "Don't worry, Michael, we don't have to rush. I'm not that cold," said Caitlin, smiling at him. "Not all shivers are due to cold, you know."

Michael looked quizzically at her. The double entendre behind her words was almost visible. Although they had discussed taking it slow, he wondered if tonight might be the night he 'got lucky'. "Don't do that to me, Cait, otherwise I'm turning you around right now and marching you home to bed," he whispered huskily.

"Well, Mr Coldsmith-Briggs III, what are you waiting for?" said Caitlin with a wink.

Resisting the urge to sling her over his shoulder, Michael promptly did an about-turn and steered her back in the direction of his Jeep. Cait giggled and allowed herself to be led off. Delicious shivers ran down her spine in anticipation.

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Michael rolled back onto his pillow. Trying to catch his breath, he puffed heavily for a few seconds before he managed to slow his breathing down. Propping herself up on one elbow, Cait smiled mischeviously at him. "So this is what I've been missing all this while?"

"Plenty more where that came from," growled Michael, in a voice so deep and seductive he barely recognised it as his own. "Now, that's an invitation I can't possibly refuse…"purred Cait, fingers already running sensuously down his torso.

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"How about going away for a whole weekend, Cait?"

Pulling a sheet around her, Caitlin sat up. "A whole weekend? This is the first time we've been on a whole date without being interrupted, you think you can manage a whole weekend?"

"Well, I'll certainly try to arrange it. Leave my satellite phone briefcase behind 'accidentally-on-purpose' might help…and if I tell Marella that it's a romantic weekend with you she might well decide to cut us a break and cover for me?"

"Well…under those circumstances, I'd say yes to that. Where shall we go?"

"Hmmmm…I've always wanted to go to Hawaii…what do you think?"

"Oooh, sounds good. Let me square it with Dom before we make definite plans?"

Michael's only answer was to yank the sheet off her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

**Chapter 2**

**Author's note: Ooops, I forgot about the standard disclaimers. Sorry! As usual, these wonderful characters don't belong to me, I am merely borrowing them as they speak in my head! **

Michael stepped out of his sky blue Jeep. He had been looking forward to this weekend for days. Pulling the soft top out of its cover, he made sure that all the zip and Velcro fastenings were done up properly – the last thing he wanted to do was to come back to a soaking wet car IF heaven forbid that it did rain! Picking up the small duffle bag from the seat next to him, he carefully locked the driver's side door. Satisfied that all was secure, he whistled merrily as he made his way through the glass doors, towards the Santini Air office, where Cait was waiting for him.

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"God in Heaven, String, I swear you are more ornery today than a bear with a sore nose! What's eating you? It's Friday, for goodness sakes!" exclaimed Cait, her face flaming.

"So what if it's Friday? I still have to take your student up. You know how much I LOVE taking students, Cait, especially if it's a fainting female!" growled String. He hated students at the best of times, and the fact that now he had to cover for her while she was off on a romantic weekend really did not sit well with him. He knew that she deserved the time off, hell, she had covered for him on more than one occasion, but he couldn't even bring himself to smile and tell her to enjoy herself with Michael. Turning his back, he stalked out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Cait took a moment to take a deep breath before she turned around to greet Michael. Although her blood was boiling, she knew that he didn't deserve her wrath – particularly since she wasn't mad at him.

"Hello, handsome," she said turning around. "I wasn't expecting you for another 20 minutes."

Michael smiled. "Hawke in a bad mood?"

"Yeah, but he always seems to be in a bad mood. Well, stuff him. I won't let him spoil MY day! Give me a few minutes to tidy up and change, and we can go?"

"Take your time, Cait, you don't have to rush." Michael crossed the room and settled himself comfortably in a chair.

Cait busied herself tidying away the paperwork she was busy with, taking special care to leave all the paperwork that needed Dom's signature in his in-tray, carefully marked with little stickers that said "Sign here!" Glancing through the window, she could see Hawke walking out of the locker area into the main hangar. He had changed from the oil and grease-stained overalls that he wore earlier, into jeans with his favourite leather flight jacket. She saw him climb into the Piper, presumably to start pre-flight checks before the student arrived, and smiled to herself.

Satisfied that the desk was neat and tidy, Cait put the last file back into its proper place in the little filing cabinet and shut it with a slam. Telling Michael that she was going to wash up and change and say her goodbyes, she would be back in five minutes.

Cait emerged from the tiny bathroom, having changed her top for a fresh green one that brought out her eyes. She went to the adjoining sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Satisfied that her makeup was still intact, she quickly reapplied cherry lip gloss and brushed her fingers through her hair.

Seeing String walk towards the glass doors and his student, she moved quickly to intercept him.

"String?"

He turned towards her.

"I'm sorry if I upset you earlier, I don't want you mad at me," said Cait, catching up to him. "Thanks again for taking my student up."

String flashed a quick smile at her. "Sorry for being 'ornery'," he drawled. "You enjoy your weekend with Michael and don't worry about anything, OK?" he finished, giving her a quick hug.

Cait took it to mean that all was forgiven, or he had gotten over whatever it was that was bugging him earlier. Still smiling, she headed to the office, where Dom's red baseball cap could be seen bobbing around just under the window sill.

"Dom? Paperwork's done, all the bits that need your signature are in your in-tray, I'll be heading out with Michael in a minute," said Cait, sticking her head round the door.

Dom looked up from the floor, where he was busy trying to pick up a load of ball bearings which had fallen. "Well, fly safe Cait, and I'll see you back here on Tuesday." He got up to give her a big bear hug.

Cait went to the key box, took the keys for the Jet Ranger that Dom was letting her borrow for the weekend, and almost skipped into the inner office, where Michael was waiting for her.

"Hey handsome, you ready to go?"

Michael scrambled to his feet. He reached for his bag with one hand, and Cait with the other.

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Cait eased the collective down and felt the helicopter settle gently onto the ground on her skids. Turning off the rotors, she expertly flipped switches that shut down the helicopter. Satisfied that all was well, she then removed the headphones from her ears and hung them from the radio control knob. Turning to Michael, she poked him hard in the ribs.

"Mmmfphm!"

"Wake up, sleepyhead, we're here."

Without opening his eyes, Michael tried to reach out for her, but was pulled back into his seat with a jerk as he realised that he was still strapped into his harness. Giggling, Caitlin reached over to release the main buckle. Michael quickly took advantage of her leaning over him, and pressed his lips to hers.

"Mmmmmmmm…" purred Cait. Her hands moved slowly up his torso, tangling in his hair. She realised that he still had his headphones on. Without breaking their kiss, she pulled off his headphones and hung them neatly next to hers and brought her fingers back into his crisp blonde hair. Michael shifted in his seat and with one neat pull, pulled her onto his lap.

"Well, Mr Coldsmith-Briggs, this feels like a wonderful beginning to this romantic weekend," drawled Caitlin, feeling him harden against her thighs. "Best we be getting a room, and quickly I suppose?"

"Mmmmmmm…" agreed Michael, "a room sounds gooooood," dragging out the last vowel deep in his throat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

**Chapter 3**

The shrill ring of the telephone shattered the silence of the hangar. Both Dom and String stopped their work on the Stearman. "My turn, I suppose, Dom?" sighed String, as he dropped the wrench he was using with a clatter and getting to his feet.

"Santini Air."

"That you, String? I need some help and fast!"

String could hear the worry in her voice. He covered the mouthpiece of the receiver and yelled for Dom.

"Cait? What's wrong? Are you and Michael alright?"

Dom put his arm on String's shoulder, and mouthed "What's up?"

"Oh String, I don't know what else to do. I know this isn't a secure line, but….Michael's gone!"

"Gone? Gone where?"

"We were at a luau dinner last night, at the hotel we're staying in. He went to the bathroom and didn't come back. I've looked everywhere, but all his clothes and even that danged satellite phone are all still in our hotel room. The chopper is still here. No note, no nothing. I'm real worried, String!"

"All right, Cait, try and stay calm. I'm going to give Marella a call, and I'm going to chat to Dom and call you right back with a plan, OK? Give me your number, and go and try and have some breakfast or some coffee or something." Quickly scribbling down the number she gave him, he said goodbye and cut the call.

Dom's eyes grew wide and round as he heard String speaking to Marella. From what he could hear of the one-sided conversation, Marella had no idea where Michael would be, other than on his romantic weekend – as far as she knew, nothing had happened at The Firm that would necessitate Michael's disappearance without even so much as a word to Cait. "_Uh oh…this is NOT good_," thought Dom to himself.

String turned to Dom as he cradled the receiver. "Marella's going to try and see what she can do from the office, Dom. She's going to call the cops and the hospitals in the vicinity. I'm going to fly out to Hawaii, to the hotel and see if there are any clues that will help us find Michael."

"Do you want me to stand by with the Lady, String?"

"Yeah, Dom, if that's OK with you. I'd offer to stay, but you're a lot better at using Airwolf's computers if Marella needs a hand with that computer stuff."

"OK, String. Take the little 500? And take a change of clothes or something."

Looking down at his dirty overalls, String agreed. "Keep me posted, wontcha? I'll head to the cabin then straight to Cait. I'll check in with you."

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"Santini Air, come in Santini Air, this is Bravo Zulu Tango Alpha one niner niner two, over."

Switching on the receiver, Dom answered. "This is Santini Air, that you String? Over."

"Dom? Yeah, it's String. I'm about to touch down on the helipad of the hotel. Any word from Marella? Over."

"Noone even remotely resembling Michael in any cop shop or hospital in the whole of bloody Hawaii. BUT Marella did call two minutes ago to say she was on her way here and had something to show me. I'll give you a call once she arrives, String, over."

"Roger that, Dom, Hawke out."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

**Chapter 4**

String tried to settle himself comfortably on the sofa, anticipating a long wait. Cait paced up and down the carpet, a frown marking her face. Her red hair stood on end, testament to her habit of running her fingers through her hair when stressed.

"Sit down, Cait, you're going to wear a hole in the carpet."

Opening her mouth to snap at him, Cait thought the better of it and sat down on the nearest chair. "Surely it can't take Marella THAT long to get from Knightsbridge to the hangar?!"

"Well, why don't you make yourself a cup of tea or something? Or make me one." String tried to keep his voice steady and calm, although he, too, felt like screaming in frustration.

On cue, the phone rang.

String jumped to his feet, as Cait, being closer, scooped up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Cait, it's Dom and Marella. Can both of you hear us?"

Holding the receiver so that String could hear, Cait replied, "Yes, we can, go ahead. What can you tell us?"

"It's not good, Cait. I received a ransom note, by fax, at the office about an hour ago." Marella also fought to keep her voice calm.

"So what do they want, Marella? And how do we know that they actually have Michael?" String broke in.

"Well, they said he was wearing a purple Hawaiian shirt with white flowers, and khaki cargo pants – does that sound about right, Cait?"

Cait sighed as she answered. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. I just bought him that shirt a few hours ago, saying that he needed something suitably Hawaiian for the luau."

"Well then, we're sure that they have Michael. They want us to deliver the schematics and blueprints for Airwolf in two days' time, at a noodle bar in Tokyo. And they want Hawke to deliver it. Then they'll return Michael to us."

"So do we get backup from the Firm, or is it just us?" Cait felt that she just had to ask, even though she knew if the Firm got involved, she would most likely be told to stand by the phone.

"Just us, I'm afraid. I had to wait to see Zeus, and when I got to see him, and showed him the ransom note, he reminded me that Archangel was on personal time, and therefore didn't 'merit' Zebra Squad – not that they could get over there as quickly as, well, you or Hawke or Dom could. But he did give me the go ahead to contact our counterparts in Japan and ask for their assistance." Marella stopped to take a breath.

"Well, I'm definitely going!" said Cait. "I'm going crazy just sitting here!"

"Well, you're not going alone, Cait, so I'll come with you. Dom? Will you stand by with the Lady?"

"Again? Mamma mia, why is it I always get left behind?"

String could hear Marella in the background saying that she would need help doctoring the schematics and that she would take Dom over String any day with computers.

"So it's settled then, everyone? Cait and I will be on our way back to the hangar shortly. Will one of you arrange for us to take the first flight out of LAX to Tokyo?"

"All right, fine," huffed Dom. "At least it gives me something to do."

"Ok, we'll see both of you shortly." Cait disconnected the call and tossed the phone receiver back onto its cradle.

"Alright Cait, I'll head straight to the Jet Ranger and load up yours and Michaels' things, and get the engines started for you. Will you check out of your room? I'll wait for you to take off," said String as he grabbed both duffle bags in one hand, tucked the briefcase containing Michael's satellite phone under his right arm, and picked up Cait's makeup case with his free hand.

Cait met him at the hotel room door, the key in her hand. "Hey, String," she said softly, "Thanks."

Smiling at her, he said, "What are friends for?"

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	5. Chapter 5

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

**Chapter 5 **

Cait tried to relax in her airplane seat. Next to her, in the window seat, String was leaning back with his eyes closed. "Stop squirming and GO TO SLEEP," he growled, without opening his eyes. "Sorry," whispered Cait as she pulled the airline blanket over herself and tried to quiet her thoughts.

String sighed as he tried to rest. Sleep was next to impossible in his current state of mind, so he tried to do the next best thing – to let his body rest. His thoughts flickered briefly on the events of the past few hours.

He and Cait had taken off, more or less simultaneously from the Hilton Hotel where Cait and Michael had spent the weekend, and headed back to Van Nuys, where Dom and Marella were waiting for them. In the three hours it took them to arrive, Dom had driven to the Lair and pulled off the schematics from the Airwolf computers, and Marella had gone back to the office to collect her powerful laptop so they could both be at the hangar when String and Cait arrived.

When they had landed and put the helicopters into the main hangar, they had found Dom and Marella hard at work in the office, busy 'doctoring' the schematics. They had looked up as both String and Cait burst in through the door. Both Dom and Marella had jumped up to hug them both. At that point, safely ensconced in Dom's arms, Cait had shed a few tears but dashed them away with the back of her hand as String put his hand on her shoulder in sympathy.

Dom had then bundled Cait into the jeep, and driven her to her apartment in town so she could pick up a few fresh changes of clothes, while Marella briefed String on a few details and gave him the disc containing the doctored schematics and blueprints.

Two hours later, Cait and String were belted in in the Jet Ranger, with Dom at the controls, on their way to LAX to catch their commercial flight to Tokyo. Both of them had to take off at a run to be at the boarding gate in time, but they had managed to get on the plane without too much hassle. As they were served their meal, String had ordered two double whiskies and made sure that Cait had a good meal and a good dose of the whiskey, hoping that that would calm her down somewhat. She had held up remarkably well, putting on a brave, calm front but he knew her well enough to know that she was anxious and stressed.

His thoughts turned to Michael. He had first met Michael when he was a test pilot for Airwolf, about four years ago, before Dr Moffett had turned renegade at her first demonstration at Red Star. He remembered the courage that Michael had shown since then, overcoming the terrible wounds to his leg and the loss of his eye, and battling his erstwhile superior, Zeus, over Hawke and the bargain he had made with Michael about Airwolf and his continuing search for St John. He admired the way Michael had learned to handle him, always making sure that Hawke received all the support but was shielded from the petty machinations of The Committee, while coping with his often-grouchy moods. His mind began to run over more recent events, about Dom's most recent birthday party, which Cait had hosted at her apartment in town, where they had all seen for themselves the budding relationship between her and Michael. He had smiled to himself, glad that the both of them had seemed so happy.

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Cait tried to stay still so that String could rest. Although her back was to him and her head rested on on a pillow between the corner of her seat and the closed window, she could feel his warmth radiating off his left arm, which was resting lightly on the armrest between them. It comforted her greatly.

Her mind was whirling with questions. Who would want to kidnap Michael for the schematics of Airwolf? It would have to be someone well connected or well informed, as Michael was not, as a general rule, connected with Santini Air. File A56-7W, the Airwolf file, was coded as Level 5 classified, and as such no one below the rank of Deputy Director had access. So how would this person know about Michael's connection with Airwolf unless they managed to hack the files – or had an informer really high up in the Firm? She shivered at the thought. She hoped that he had not been mistreated – she really did care about him.

Her thoughts then turned to the identity of the kidnappers. Russians? Germans? Chinese? Japanese (most likely as Tokyo was the drop off/exchange point)? A little dictatorship or island nation? The list seemed long.

Moving carefully, Cait turned onto her right side. String had not moved, his arms still resting lightly on the armrests, his fingers loosely clasped in his lap, over his fastened seatbelt. She felt so lucky to be counted amongst his friends – Stringfellow Hawke did not make friends easily. The moment they met she had felt that she had met a kindred spirit, almost – even though in temperament and habit both of them were diametric opposites. She appreciated the way both him and Dom had taken her under their wing, teaching her about aircraft maintenance, and eventually trusting her enough to tell her about Airwolf (even though it was out of necessity when both String and Dom had injured themselves in a stunt the day before a desperate plea from Marella had sent them on an unofficial Airwolf mission to East Germany to extract Michael). She hoped that one day String would find someone that he could love – someone that could deal with his stubbornness and melt that thick layer of ice around his heart. And who loved him back. She knew she loved him, the way a younger sister loved a brother, but knew that he needed romance to feed his soul and keep him human, much as he hated admitting it. She thought back on the adventures all three of them had had, in Airwolf, and the camaraderie between all three of them while they worked at Santini Air, and smiled to herself. She was in the midst of her recollection of their last Airwolf mission when sleep claimed her.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Who is it…This Time?**

By Kat Fenn

Sorry, everyone – I am on holiday at the in-laws and this was the first chance I've had to sit down and write without looking too anti-social!

I will post chapters as and when I can…

**Chapter 6 **

String stood, staring at himself in the mirror. He had just cleaned his teeth and splashed his face with ice cold water. The flight had landed about five minutes ago, and he and Cait had headed straight off the plane into the bathrooms. Telling her he would wait for her outside the ladies' toilet, String had grabbed his carry on duffle bag and headed straight into the nearest gents'.

Running his fingers through his sandy hair, String went into a cubicle and shut the door behind him. He wanted just five minutes to breathe and think before having to start the mission. He put the lid of the toilet down and sat, closing his eyes. He counted ten deep, even breaths before he opened his eyes and focussed on a spot on the cubicle door. He counted a further ten deep, even breaths before standing up and unlocking the door. He felt a cloak of calm fall over him as he made sure he had all his possessions safely zipped away into his duffle bag and leaving the gents'.

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Caitlin led the way to taxi stand. Hawke followed close behind her, scanning the crowd around them. His aviator shades were in place over his eyes, and every sense was on high alert. He was a good head and a half above most of the crowd, and Caitlin was about a head above the crowd, but her flaming red hair was a beacon that was hard to miss. He could see the slight movements of her head from left to right as she also tried to scan the crowd for any sign of a problem.

He glance briefly at his Breitling as they arrived at the back of the queue at the taxi stand. The hands showed 8.25am. The meeting at the noodle bar was scheduled for 1pm that day. "Cait!" he whispered urgently. "I'm not sure that a taxi is the best way to go. We'll be stuck in the queue and sitting ducks if anyone wants to jump us. How about we find some other way of getting into town?"

"I think you're just being paranoid, Hawke. Besides, do you read Japanese? I sure as heck can't – and how do we find this address? Tokyo is huge…besides we stick out like a sore thumb!" whispered back Caitlin. "In any case, wasn't it YOU that they wanted to deliver the ransom? They don't know anything about me – so that's cover, right? Think about it, Hawke."

Hawke acknowledged to himself that she was probably right. He was dressed in his usual worn jeans and a warm red and black checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with comfortable black boots on his feet. He felt vulnerable having to go in on a 'mission' of this importance without his trusty Detonics Combatmaster in his side holster. But of course there was no way of getting his gun on board a commercial flight. He was ever-conscious of the fact that they were 'on their own' on this mission, and if anything should go wrong Michael would probably have to pay for it. And if they didn't have the support of Michael, who would come after Airwolf next? And how would they arm and fuel her? Questions swirled through his mind until he consciously took a deep cleansing breath and blew it out slowly, letting the tension diffuse out of his body.

"String? You OK?" said Caitlin softly, touching his arm. String jumped, startled out of his reverie. He turned his icy blue eyes on her and gave her a half-smile. "Just worrying, that's all."

"That's Dom's department, don't you start as well. One worrier in this outfit is more than enough! Right, changing the subject completely, where are we going to go? It's too early to head to the noodle house, shall we try and head for a mall or something? Or stay here? I sure could do with a coffee, and it might throw any pursuers off the scent."

"Here's the plan, Cait. You head off to the right here, and take the elevator round to the third level of shops, and then wander around a bit. I'll pretty much go in the opposite direction and spend some time in the bookshop. What do you say we meet in about an hour and a half at the main coffee stop – think it's called World Café or something?"

"Alright. I'll see you in an hour and a half then." Cait shouldered her duffle bag and sauntered off in the direction of the ladies'. String watched her through his aviator shades, scanning the crowd to see if anyone was showing any particular interest in where she was going. As he shuffled three places towards the front of the queue, he saw her disappear into the bathroom. No one seemed to be showing any interest in her movements. String then decided to make a move himself. He picked up his bag and sauntered off in the opposite direction, surreptitiously checking to see if anyone was following him.

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Cait sipped her coffee cautiously. The oversized mug felt heavy in her hand and the liquid within was strong and hot. Hawke slid into the booth next to her, an identical mug in his hand.

"Well, Mr Worrywart, so far, so good. I haven't seen anyone on my tail – anyone on yours?"

String took his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "No one that I can see. I just want this over and done with."

"I know what you mean, String. I hope Michael's alright."

String looked up at the waver in her voice. He noticed the dark shadows under her eyes and how her freckles stood out against her paler-than-normal skin. Concerned, he asked, "You doing alright, kiddo?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm also being a worrywart." Cait fought to keep tiredness out of her voice. She had been nervous and edgy ever since she had woken up this morning, hoping that she had done the right thing – insisting that she be allowed to come along, even though the note had said for Hawke to deliver the data on his own. Her teeth felt like they were on edge, and the skin at the nape of her neck would not stop prickling. She mentally shook herself and pulled herself up taller. String saw the determined set of her jaw and a new focus come into her eyes. He smiled at her as he squeezed her hand. He knew that her backup would be invaluable in a tight situation.

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String checked the name of the noodle bar against the facsimile copy of the ransom note in his hand. Satisfied that it was indeed correct, he pushed through the fabric strips in the doorway in front of him. Interesting smells assailed his nostrils and his stomach growled, reminding him that it had been a few hours since he had last eaten. He stepped inside to loud choruses of "Irashaimase!", the traditional Japanese welcome. A pretty waitress ushered him to a seat at the counter with empty seats on either side of him. She thrust a pictorial menu in his hands and rushed off. Using the menu as a cover, String quickly scanned the room around him. It was early for the normal Japanese lunch hour. A pair of young girls in what appeared to be a school uniform sat across the counter from him, hidden behind a large newsprint. Cait, her bright red hair hidden under a woolly bobble hat, sat a few seats down from them, also behind a girly magazine. A group of housewives sat in a booth in the corner, chattering excitedly. A couple sat in yet another corner booth, but String could not tell, from where he was sitting, if they were Japanese or Caucasian. He could see no one else in the noodle house other than a pair of waitresses in abbreviated traditional dress, one of whom was heading towards him with a steaming hot cup in her hand. He acknowledged her with a smile, and pointed at a picture on the menu, hoping that it would be something that he could eat. He then pulled out his battered paperback novel from his jacket pocket and settled in, warming the fingers of his right hand around his cup of what turned out to be Japanese, o-cha, or green tea.

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String was about to raise his chopsticks with his second mouthful of tasty ramen noodles when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He had noticed that the woman of the couple had stood up and started walking towards him, ostensibly heading for the bathroom. He heard the whispered "Follow me," which followed the tap. He slurped up the mouthful in accordance with local custom, and laid his chopsticks down. The male half of the couple was still in the booth, slurping away at his noodles, and the noodle house was starting to fill up. He glanced quickly at Cait and saw that she was watching him. Giving her a quick wink, String made his way through the noodle house towards what he assumed were the toilets at the back.

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String returned to his seat and sat down, guarding his expression carefully. The lady had still not returned to her seat. Cait was no longer in her seat, so he assumed that she had paid her bill and was carrying out her surveillance from somewhere outside the noodle house, as soon as she saw him head back to his seat. Deciding that the ramen was too good to leave, String applied himself diligently to emptying his bowl.

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Cait caught up to String as he exited the noodle house. She had observed the couple leaving the noodle house, a few short minutes ago. "So? Who showed up to pick up the merchandise? I couldn't figure out who it was, but I got the impression from the way she walked and carried herself that she wasn't Japanese," asked Cait impatiently.

"Well, Cait, you won't believe this – but it was Angelica Horne." String braced himself for Caitlin's reaction, remembering what she had said after she had rescued him from the clutches of John Bradford Horne who had tried to brainwash him. She had laid claim, in her usual fashion, to Angelica's head.

"Why that filthy, lying, manipulative SLUT!" hissed Caitlin.

String suppressed a grin to himself. "Don't worry, Cait, she didn't try to kiss me THIS time."

"I'd like to get my hands on her and give her a Caitlin-style kiss!" spluttered Cait. "So what now?"

String rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out the paperback he was reading in the noodle house. He pulled out a slip of white paper which he was using as a bookmark and silently handed it to Cait. It was a printout of a flight reservation for a flight for Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III out of Tokyo's Narita Airport later on that afternoon.

"So I guess they'll drop him at the airport then? I must say, String, I wondered why you didn't insist on them producing him before you handed the stuff over? That isn't like you at all!" Cait's voice began to rise in pitch and volume.

"Steady on, Cait, you don't think I tried? Didn't you see the guy she was with?" String tried to calm her down as they were starting to get curious looks from passers-by on the street.

"No, I didn't. Why?"

"That was Michael. She had him well, handcuffed more or less, to the table when she went to the loo, and then handcuffed to her as they walked out. But he was really dopey and looked like he was under her well, 'command' I think is the right word – think he's been drugged."

"Is he OK then, String?" Cait felt the tension leave her body.

"Well, other than being dopey, he looked OK. No visible bumps or bruises." String hoped his voice conveyed the right combination of calm and control he definitely did not feel. It worried him that Michael seemed to be drugged and did not recognise Hawke or Caitlin, nor was he as alert to his surroundings as he normally would be. He wondered if he had been brainwashed as well. He tucked Caitlin's arm into the crook of his elbow, and started walking towards the nearest Metro. They had three hours to get to Narita Airport to catch their own flight back to LA, and he wanted to arrive well ahead of Michael's kidnappers when they arrived to release him. He shrugged to himself. The schematics wouldn't be of much use to the kidnappers – the logic bomb Marella and Dom cooked up should get their version of Airwolf up in the air, but once they activated the turbos for the third time (they figured there would be two test flights before they sent their Airwolf on a mission) the ADF pod trigger mechanisms would jam and the missiles in the ADF pod would arm but not release, which would blow it up, taking their version of Airwolf. He hoped that Marella and Dom had done a good job under their extremely hurried circumstances.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

**Chapter 7 **

Cait shut the door of the toilet stall behind her and hung her duffle bag by its strap on the convenient hook at the back of the door. She put the lid of the toilet seat down and sat down, her head in her hands. She tried String's breathing trick to calm herself and found it working. After taking a few minutes to centre herself and her energies, she stood up. She rummaged in her duffle bag, as best she could in the tight little space. Pulling out a dark green t-shirt, she took her bobble hat off her head. She then took her jacket off and reversed it, revealing a chocolate brown exterior in contrast to the cream belt-over she had been wearing. Changing quickly, she made sure to apply powder and deodorant in an effort to feel fresher. She took yet another deep breath before shouldering her duffle bag and heading over to the sink, where she ran a comb through her tangled red hair and quickly splashed her face with cold water. She checked her watch. Two hours till the flight departed. Which meant Michael (and whoever was holding him) should be arriving at the check-in counter, at least. Feeling much better, Cait pushed open the door of the ladies', and headed straight to where she and String had agreed to meet.

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String was in the queue, waiting to check in. Cait quickly scanned the crowd. Seeing nothing, she headed towards him. As she got closer, she noticed String surreptitiously motioning her away from him. Taking her cue, she joined the queue for check in at the very back.

As the queue shuffled towards the check-in counter, Cait tried to stay alert. The sheer size of the crowds criss-crossing around her made it very difficult, but she did try her best.

A commotion caught her attention. It looked like a little old lady was having trouble pushing her baggage trolley and had caused a minor kerfuffle. She was apologising profusely to the people she had ploughed into and other people around her were trying to help her get her baggage back on the trolley. Cait smiled in sympathy and turned her attention back to scanning the crowd. As her gaze swung back to where she THOUGHT String was in the queue, she realised he was not there. In his place was a familiar figure wearing spectacles with a blacked out lens over his left eye. "_Michael!_" Her heart skipped a beat. "_Where IS String then?"_ she thought to herself as her eyes raked over the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a group of men swiftly moving towards an open elevator door. They seemed to be carrying a rather large object between them, but as she strained her eyes to make out the details, the elevator door shut on the group. "_Dang!" _she thought to herself, just as Michael crumpled to the ground.

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Cait took Michael's hand in hers and grasped it tightly. He was resting, after being given a mild sedative by the airport physician on call. The portly, well-spoken doctor had assured her, in his best English, that Michael was fine, just exhausted. They had both been escorted on board their flight by a medical team, who waved aside Michael's weak protests that he was fine and could walk on board by himself. They had then given Cait some Valium tablets for him and bid them both a safe journey. After their afternoon meal on board, Cait had wordlessly handed him the tablets and Michael swallowed them with no complaint.

Cait ordered herself a large whiskey. When it came, she settled back in her seat to plan. She did manage to call Dom as they left Tokyo to ask if he could pick both herself and Michael up at LAX. Dom said he would ask Marella to meet them at the hangar, and she would take Michael to the Firm's Clinic. Cait had told Dom briefly that String was now missing, and she knew that Dom was as worried as she was. He had not hesitated for a second to tell Cait that they were going after him in Airwolf. She smiled at the recollection. "I swear those guys will pay for what they did to String!" he had said.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

The standard disclaimers apply. Sorry for the long wait!

**Chapter 8 **

Dom settled back in the Aircraft Commander's seat. It felt strange to be sitting in the front, instead of his usual seat behind the Engineering Console. Michael now occupied his seat, sans glasses. He looked alert and awake and fully cognizant of what was happening around him. He had overruled Marella and ordered her to let him go on the mission, feeling responsible for Hawke's kidnapping. Dom sighed to himself and prayed that John Bradford Horn did not have enough time to mess with Michael's brain.

Michael busied himself with the computer screen in front of him. Marella had given him a disc containing all the intelligence they had on John Bradford Horn and his daughter Angelica. He read through the relevant sections aloud, editorialising where necessary, so that both Caitlin and Dom would be as up to date as he was. They were headed back to Japan where Horn and Angelica were holed up in the ruins of an ancient samurai fort near the district of Gion, supported by the Yakuza group, the Red Tigers.

Cait bit her lip as she concentrated on the controls. Flying on turbo for long distances was usually left to String, but as he, well, wasn't here, Dom had suggested that the both of them share the Aircraft Commander role. Cait felt the responsibility weigh heavily on her shoulders. She was responsible for the entire Airwolf crew – what would happen if she lost her concentration for a single second and steered them into the sea or something equally disasterous? "_Thank goodness the weather's fine – one less thing to worry about,"_ she thought to herself.

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Dom took over the controls once the mid-air refuelling was done. They were close to Japanese territorial waters now, and Cait had been flying Airwolf for what seemed to be like hours. He told her to close her eyes and take a little rest, and Michael had passed her a cup of steaming hot coffee out of the Thermos.

" Ten seconds to Japanese territorial waters. Switching to stealth mode," Michael's voice sounded through the heavy helmets. Cait sat bolt upright, startled. "It's OK, Cait, I got her," said Dom's voice in her helmet. Cait closed her eyes and tried to focus, the way String had taught her.

"What's our ETA to Gion, Michael?" asked Caitlin, as she flexed her fingers and tried to stretch without moving too much in the cramped confines of the cockpit. "Eight minutes. How are the two of you holding up?" asked Michael in reply.

"As fine as I could be, I suppose," came the grumpy reply from the seat normally occupied by the Stringfellow Hawke. "I'm fine, just a bit stiff," said Cait, turning in her seat to smile at Michael. "How are you doing back there? Still feeling up to the mission?"

"I think it's a little late to be asking me that seeing we're almost here, but thank you for your concern, Cait," said Michael wryly, as he winked at her.

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"Combat mode engaged! Chain guns 1 and 2 and ADF pod deployed," said Cait, before Michael could react. Dom suppressed a grin as he normally waited for the order from String before engaging combat mode. He could tell that Michael was taken aback by Cait's anticipation.

"All right, gang, here we go. Keep your wits about you," said Dom, as he pushed the cyclic down and Airwolf started to descend. Cait tightened her grip around her Detonics CombatMaster which she held in her right hand, her left checking the earpiece which linked her, by radio, to the occupants and computer systems of Airwolf. She hoped that String was alright, or would be when she arrived.

"Good luck, Cait," was Dom's parting words, as she slammed the door shut and Airwolf lifted off into the sky. "Are you reading me, Cait?" came Michael's voice in her ear, almost immediately after. "10-4," whispered Cait, as she scampered though the undergrowth from the forest clearing, where she was dropped, towards the ruined fort.

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"How are you doing back there, Michael?" asked Dom, for the third time in twice as many minutes.

"I'm fine. Stop bloody asking and concentrate on the mission," grumbled Michael. "I'm not about to pull my gun and shoot you in the back just because I was kidnapped and drugged by John Bradford Horne. Anyway – Cait's just about arrived at the fort."

"Cait? I'm reading a group of five men, one seated, in the second room down the passage to your right. There's another group of three men almost immediately to your left. We'll provide the distraction, on my count," finished Michael.

"C'mon then, sweetheart, let's show these thugs who's boss," said Dom encouragingly to the helicopter he was flying. In a louder voice, he then said," Take cover, Cait!" Dom pulled up on the cyclic, so that Airwolf was exposed over the treetops of the forest. Depressing the trigger for the chain guns with his index finger, Dom lay a large covering spray of bullets in the general direction of the ruined fort.

"It's working, Dom, I have the three men from the one room, and three of the five men from the other room heading out towards us!" exclaimed Michael excitedly. Dom manoeuvred the sleek black helicopter closer to the fort, intending to give Cait as much time as he could.

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String settled back into the jump seat next to Michael. It felt strange not to be in his usual seat in the front, as well as the headphones in place of his heavy helmet. He felt a little lightheaded, and his head was throbbing in tandem with his ankle and the bruises on his face and knuckles. He had put up quite a fight at Narita airport, until they injected him with what he supposed was a sedative. The last thing he remembered was him tripping over his own feet as they flung a burlap sack over his head. When he had awoken he found himself tied to a chair. They had beaten him, hoping to make him submit and keep quiet, but at one point he had managed to extricate himself from his bonds and take a swing at one of the guards. For which he had taken a blow to his head and a rifle butt or something equally heavy to his knuckles for his trouble. They had injected him with yet another dose of sedative, and hoped that their benefactor would take their troublesome charge off their hands. The next thing he remembered was Cait shaking him by the shoulder and undoing his bonds. She had helped him stumble out of the room he was held captive in, with her arm around his waist. She had whispered "Green light!" into the radio or whatever it was he supposed she had, and then tried to hurry him along, as fast as his injured ankle would allow. "Stay with me, String!" she had yelled at him, while explosions rocked the ground under them. He remembered thinking that Dom must have had a lot of fun in the pilot seat – it was String himself that would normally fire all the weapons necessary.

String was startled out of his reverie by Michael handing him a small thermos cup of coffee, before pushing him gently aside to hug Cait from behind and give her a similar cup. He noticed that Michael briefly put his hand on Dom's shoulder as he made his way back to the Engineering Console. He grinned to himself. Maybe Michael and Dom would become better friends because of him. Sipping the bitter brew, he counted himself lucky to have such friends. He reached out to touch the nearest bulkhead, silently thanking the monstrous aircraft.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Who Is It…This time? **

By Kat Fenn

**Epilogue**

Dom scanned the newspaper in front of him. He had just arrived from picking String up at his cabin. He could hear String loading up a toolbag in preparation for the day's maintenance work on the Jet Ranger. He reached for the jar of coffee and spooned a generous amount into their very-overworked coffee machine. Making sure that there was enough water in the tank, he turned the switch to 'percolate' and turned to gather the mugs for coffee. As he walked back to his desk, he could hear two distinct sets of sounds – the sound of a car door slamming in the carpark beyond his office – Cait arriving, he supposed – and the steady drip of coffee percolating. Deciding that he could take a moment to scan the newspaper before the coffee was ready, Dom leaned against the counter which housed their makeshift kitchen and unfurled his newspaper. The main headline grabbed him immediately – "Unknown military aircraft collides with passenger jet over Russia!"

Scanning through the rest of the article, Dom decided that this news was best shared with the other two. Raising his voice, he yelled for both String and Cait. Whilst waiting for them, he poured out the freshly made coffee into three mugs.

"What's up, Dom?" said String, just as Cait appeared from the car park.

"Come and see this! I'm not one hundred percent sure that this is the fake Airwolf that the Russians built from our schematic, but this is too much of a coincidence!" said Dom, jabbing his finger at the headline he had just read.

"Lemme see that…" said String, grabbing the newspaper from him and laying it out flat on the desk so that all three of them could read at the same time. Although the details were skimpy, there was a distinct possibility that the military aircraft in question was the one which was built on the fake schematics. It had suddenly 'fallen out of the sky' – which the team took to mean either an engine failure or she had suddenly disengaged from stealth mode – and seemed to pitch and yaw whilst the big passenger aircraft, on its flight plan to Moscow, had tried various evasive manoeuvres but had in the end gone up in a big ball of flames.

"Well, I suppose I should be lucky that you guys all came after me, hey? Otherwise I might have been the drugged out pilot who had to fly that thing," drawled String. "If I didn't say it before…thanks, you guys."

"Well, String, it was our pleasure!" said Dom sarcastically. "If you can call having to fly with Mr Clean a pleasure, that is."

"Now c'mon, Dom, it wasn't that bad, was it? He is a nice guy, and he didn't give you any trouble, now did he?" said Cait, grinning at the both of them.

"Speaking of whom, how are the two of you doing? Not that I want to pry, or anything…" said String, his voice trailing off as Cait shot him a glare.

"We are doing just fine, thank you very much. In case you were wondering, he hasn't tried to kidnap me, or pull a gun on me or anything…so you can just lay off the worries, ok, guys? Not that it's any of your business, but we're going on another romantic weekend to make up for the Hawaiian disaster- this weekend," said Cait, her characteristic Texan drawl colouring every sentence.

"Mamma mia, does that mean you're leaving early again on Friday?" Dom threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"No, Dom, we aren't going very far this time, so I'll clock out at 5pm as per normal." Cait batted her eyelashes at him and smiled. Dom harrumphed, but turned away to hide a smile.

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Cait curled up in front of the fire, snuggling into Michael under a soft red woolly blanket. They had just had a rosy pink side of salmon with salad and shared the best part of a bottle of white wine. Their romantic weekend had gotten off to a fine start. Marella was covering duties for Michael, and he had left his satellite phone and his work briefcase in the office.

"Here's to a quiet, uneventful weekend," said Michael, brandishing his wine glass. As they clinked glasses, he bent his head to take her lips softly in his. Cait leaned into his kiss and returned it with enthusiasm, trying to find a spot to put down her almost-full wine glass without spilling its contents. Her glass knocked gently against the edge of the side table, and without breaking the kiss, she carefully set it down before sliding both arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. As he paused for air, she looked at him and purred, "Hello, handsome. Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" Michael's answer to her teasing was to rest more of his weight against her, pressing he deeper into his creamy, butter-coloured leather sofa. Their tongues tangled deliciously. Cait was busy undoing the last of Michael's shirt buttons when the doorbell rang. "_Not again_," she groaned to herself.

"Who is it?" they both chorused.

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End file.
